Gaal: Mercury's Triumph
Author's note: This story begins before the "downfall" of Gaal and may continue past the said "downfall", in which case, Gaal will -of course- survive and resume his delightful reign of terror upon the hapless pioneers.
I wrote this years ago, it's in the present tense and It has been re-written over and over again. It has more than a few flaws, I perceived so please make some allowance for unintentional stupidity. The way I used to write makes me cringe a bit -not that I'm much better now- but I feel that it would be wrong to change it a lot.
This story focuses on an OC named Caprice (pronounced "Cay-pris", not "Cah-preese"). The Stiletto she brandishes is a type of dagger and not lady's footwear, I might add.
Also included in this story are sexually suggestive themes and minor blood.
The terms "moth's kiss" and "Bee's kiss" mean soft kissing and French kissing. Since Gaal has read some older books, I though that they are terms that he could use.
Even though the show's main characters are not mentioned a lot in the first few chapters, I hoped to someday write them in later, should I manage to.
I wrote this because I love Earth 2. I love it's mythology, it's creatures, settings and Gaal is beyond amazing to say the very least so please, read on. Tell me your thoughts on it, if you will. Thank you and thank you and thank you, again.
Caprice is not the kind of woman who keeps a log. Most of her thoughts are kept locked away in her head. None of the others talk to her. Why give them the key?
It is not by pure coincidence that the vagabond the Danziger and Adiar children found is in a similar predicament.
Gaal, as he calls himself, has told everyone that he was an astronaut on a mission from Pontel 7 and that his shuttle crashed on this planet 15 years prior to their arrival, but very few believe his story.
Caprice has no opinion of the man because she has never met him.
All she has been doing for the past week is scavenging for food to keep back; wasting time and ignoring the others as they, in turn, ignore her.
She's been searching past dusk, cursing and stumbling periodically as she makes her way back to camp with a backpack slung over her shoulder, containing various roots and grasses.
She spots a firelight through the darkness.
Reluctantly, Caprice sneaks up toward it on her haunches and hides behind some rocks. Who could it be, so far from camp at this hour? Probably the drifter.
And that's exactly who it is, roasting something of indeterminable species over a spit.
He feels her presence and surveys his surroundings, calling in a hoarse whisper "Who's there?"
She doesn't answer.
Gaal rises, fingers light on the hilt of the dagger at his belt; casting aside his cloak so it doesn't breeze through the flames.
"I know you're there," Gaal says ominously. Is he expecting someone?
Caprice slowly stands to her feet, wordlessly glaring. Her eyes betray her thoughts.
"I don't know you..." He says, absent-minded through gritted teeth. She doesn't offer her name, noting his frog-like eyes flicker over her body.
"Who are you, girl?" He asks, a threatening hiss beneath his voice. Caprice is not intimidated.
He tries again, collecting himself. "Come here. Let me see you."
She spots his fingers relax. His arm falls to his side and she knows that he's armed.
Gaal sits once more. There is a chance that if she tells her people of this encounter and the detail that he was planning to keep this catch all to himself... well, that might complicate things.
"Won't you join me?"
She cautiously advances, not taking her sight from him as a smile warms his face.
"There we are." He approves. "Take a seat."
She sits on the dirt like Gaal, who attempts to make conversation. "It's not often that I snag something. As you can imagine, I'm not as deft as I used to be."
Caprice merely scratched at the ground with a twig.
He says, "You don't trust me either, do you? It hasn't been easy making friends. You could say I'm a little rusty."
"Well, we're in the same boat, then," she replied. He must have liked that because his grin grows twice fold.
He thoughtfully gazes out to the desert then offers his hand to Caprice.
"Name's Gaal. Sure you know."
"Caprice." She shakes his hand with a ghost of a smile.
"How quaint!" He chortles. Unusual quaint or delightful quaint, she's not sure which he meant.
Gaal continues, "Now, I bet you're thinking that it would be proper of me to share my dinner with the others."
"No?" He tisks and raises a brow. She explains to him that it wouldn't be enough to go around even if he were to bring it back to camp.
Gaal waits a beat before saying "...And?"
She chokes a bit. And what? "AND they'd probably all start bickering over it."
Gaal settles down a bit, feeling more comfortable in present company and sucks his lower lip. "I think you and I will get along together just fine."
Whatever is on the spit, it smells delicious. She hasn't eaten in over a day in order to save rations.
He wipes his palms on his thighs and turns the carcass over, innocently muttering "I bet you're as hungry as I am. I think there's enough of this fellow to split between the two of us."
Caprice looks at the creature that's glistening and sizzling with fat. "NO. I don't need any," She tells him hastily and makes to stand up.
Gaal's voice raises slightly. "And how long has it been since you last ate?"
She thinks about the paltry findings in her backpack and doesn't answer.
Gaal pouts at her mischievously and brings his voice down to an irresistible croon. "It's not easy to find anything in this wasteland. I've been here long enough, surely, to have experienced what scant hospitality this planet has to offer." He pauses to wrench a canteen out from a nearby duffle bag. "... And through... a considerable amount of trail and error. You might well be surprised to find out what I have discovered is actually edible."
While looking at the ground, Caprice hears that his voice has smiled.
"...But not without indigestion."